


Leprechauns and Ceilidh

by Carcy



Category: The Hobbit (2012) RPF
Genre: Explicit Language, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-22
Updated: 2013-03-22
Packaged: 2017-12-06 03:41:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/731080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carcy/pseuds/Carcy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for this prompt at the hobbit kinkmeme: http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/4307.html?thread=13556435#t13556435</p><p>So, it is St. Patrick's day - on the set- and the guys decide to celebrate it. Of course, with lots of drinking.<br/>After everyone is conditioned enough, James has a brilliant idea- there is a tradition in his home region to go to the forest and look for treasure on St. Patricks - because leprechauns are super friendly and eager to give out the gold.<br/>So, the drunken company ventures into the nearby forest and spreads out.<br/>After a while someone realizes that Aidan got lost.<br/>And so, the most sober companions, Dean included, go deeper into the forest to look for him.</p><p>Surely enough, Dean is the one who finds Aidan on the bank of a stream - and Aidan thinks that he just has found his treasure- which in fact is Dean- and is not planning on sharing Dean with anyone. Because yes, even eternal-ball-of-sunshine-Aidan can be very greedy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Leprechauns and Ceilidh

**Author's Note:**

> According to Irish folklore, the Tuatha Dé Danann were the magic people, and leprechauns are said to descend from them. The country of Ireland was named for their queen, Eriu (Eire in modern English). When the invaders came, the Tuatha Dé Danann retreated into their mounds, and some legends say they may still be there to this day. It’s debatable whether they’re immortal or not, but, well, I took liberties lol.
> 
> No insult to St. Patrick is intended, I just found it slightly ironic that this major Irish celebration has the name of a man who wasn’t actually Irish!

The leprechaun Mick appeared from out of nowhere onto the rolling green Irish hills, directly outside the largest mound in the area. The guards waved him past. Entering the mound swiftly, he bowed before its occupant.

 

“My lady Eriu! St Patrick’s Day, it’ll be starting in a wee bit.”

 

The queen of the Tuatha Dé Danann looked up, a frown marring her otherwise perfect features. Impatiently, she tucked a strand of long golden hair behind her ear. “I do detest that festival! It was all very well when it was just a religious holiday, but now the people are celebrating Irish culture and heritage in his name. His name, and not mine! Am I not the matron goddess of Ireland? The idea, the insult!”

 

The leprechaun nodded without really listening, having heard this every St Patrick’s Day for countless years. That tended to happen when one was immortal. “Will you be aiming to depart before the festivities begin, my lady?” It was a rhetorical question.

 

“I do not know where to go,” said Eriu with a sigh. “Places with lush greenery are almost unheard of now. I went to a lovely little tropical jungle in Malaysia last year, but it seems it has been chopped down.”

 

“I’ve been told New Zealand is lovely this time of year, my lady. The landscape is simply smashing, so they say.”

 

“Very well, let us leave at once before this farce begins.”

 

In a flash of white light, they both disappeared.

 

***

 

“This isn’t how I planned to celebrate St Paddy’s,” grumbled Aidan. “We’re in the middle of effing nowhere! You know what I’d be doing back home right now?” Drumming his fingers on the cafeteria table, he leant back in his chair as he waited for James and Graham to answer. Martin just rolled his eyes as he chewed his food.

 

“Getting sloshed?” said James helpfully. “I know that’s what I’d be doing, myself!”

 

“The parade? Fireworks? Concerts?” suggested Graham. “I’d love to go to Dublin for St Patrick’s, I’ve never been but I hear the festival is amazing.”

 

“Well yeah, it’s awesome but that goes without saying,” said Aidan, waving a dismissive hand. “I’m talking massive family gathering. Loads of food and everyone in green from head to toe, you know? Damn, I can almost smell my mom’s corned beef and cabbage.”

 

“Suck it up, kid,” Graham advised. “Whining’s unattractive. Also, there’s a certain someone incoming at your 6 o’clock!”

 

Aidan shot straight up at once, one hand automatically reaching up to tidy his hair as Dean and Richard joined them.

 

“Hey guys!” said Dean, smiling around at everyone as he placed his tray next to Aidan’s. “What’s up?”

 

“Dublin here’s been moaning about missing his national holiday,” said Martin, ignoring the sharp kick he received from Aidan under the table. For cripe’s sake, he was trying to impress the guy here, and Martin knew that perfectly well so he had no excuse!

 

Aidan had had a thing for Dean since he first saw him dressed up as Fili, with his long braids, ridiculously huge prosthetics and many weapons. He wasn’t sure why, seeing as he had never felt that for Rob, who had been made up exactly the same way when he held the role of Fili previously. That huge, indefinable _thing_ had only deepened and grown when he’d gotten to know Dean better, and realised what a lovely guy he was. He was perfect, really.

 

Dean groaned. “Crap, I completely forgot about it being St Patrick’s Day! My dad would kill me if he found out. That side of my family’s insanely proud of being Irish, despite the fact that my dad has lived here all his life. I mean, come on!”

 

Well, he’d been perfect before _this very second_.

 

“And what’s wrong with that?” demanded James, glaring at Dean. Good old James.

 

“Tell me, would you have liked being forced to attend ceilidh dance classes at the age of five?”

 

“You can dance the ceilidh?” asked Graham, wide-eyed.

 

“Probably not anymore, I’ve tried my hardest to forget. Do you know how much stick I got for that?”

 

“I didn’t realise you were of Irish descent,” commented Richard. “Although I suppose a name like O’Gorman, that’s a pretty big hint.”

 

Dean, who had just shovelled an impressive amount of food into his mouth, could only shrug.

 

“Look, I’m sorry you hate Irish traditions, but that’s not the point!” said Aidan, frustrated. Why couldn’t they understand that this was a big deal? “This is one of the best days of the year, all right? We can’t let it go unmarked!”

 

“Hey, Aid, calm down,” said Richard, ever the peacemaker. “We didn’t mean to offend you.”

 

James nodded in agreement. “Look, here’s the plan. We’ll just get together this evening for drinks, and go on till we’re so piss drunk we can’t see out of both eyes, yeah? Spread the word!”

 

“Sure, sounds good, any excuse!”

 

 

 

***

 

 

They met at Aidan’s trailer, which was right by the edge of the woods. In addition to the guys from lunch, Ken, Adam and Jed were there. The rest of the dwarves and Sir Ian had declined, Ian because he claimed to be too old for all-nighters and the others due to previous engagements. After all, they were having a rare day off tomorrow so it wasn’t strange that they’d made plans in advance.

 

Aidan had stocked up what seemed to be an inexhaustible supply of alcohol, which earned him the accolade of “Best Host EVER!” from the lads. It was shaping up to be a great night. Several of the cast, including Aidan himself, were well and truly wasted already.

 

Dean, who was proving to be one of the more sober guests, was enjoying it as much as anyone else nonetheless. Drunk Aidan was, not to put too fine a point on it, crazy. Utterly and completely barking mad. Dean had already seen him about to take a piss into his own coffee tin (he’d saved it in time, knowing Aidan would be mad as hell to find his coffee gone the next day), start up an egg-and-spoon race with Jed (egg got everywhere, there would be a huge mess to clean up in the morning), give a serious lecture on the origins of St Patrick’s Day, and threaten to beat up anyone who called it St Patty’s Day rather than St Paddy’s. It was pretty clear that Aidan, at any rate, had enough Irish pride for the whole cast and probably the crew as well.

 

He felt bad about what had happened at lunch. He hadn’t meant to be insensitive, but it was clear that he’d upset Aidan somehow, which was the last thing he wanted. The man was adorable beyond belief, thought Dean as he watched Aidan throwing back his head in laughter. Really, no one should be allowed to wipe a smile off that face. Ever.

 

Quickly, he caught himself. For God’s sake, they were colleagues, and more than that, Aidan was playing Dean’s character’s brother! Where was his professionalism? The way he was behaving, anyone would think he was a raw horny teenager straight from the sticks, accidentally thrown in amongst the beautiful people, instead of a respected actor with years of experience behind him. But it had been like that for him since he first stepped on set.

 

He’d been a shaky mess of nerves although he made sure not to show it, anxious about fitting in with a cast that had probably already gelled together without him. When Peter introduced him to the actor playing his brother, the last thing he’d expected was a big bear hug and a, “Thank God! I thought you lost forever, Fili!” before the other pulled away, a mischievous glint in his eyes. He’d been taken aback, but Peter only rolled his eyes good-naturedly and stage-whispered “Method actor,” into his ears.

 

Dean was jolted out of his thoughts by James clanging a spoon against his bottle of Steinlager Classic.

 

“Oi, guys, shut your traps and listen up!” When he was certain he had everyone’s attention, he went on. “I just had the greatest idea!”

 

Dean suddenly had a very bad feeling about this.

 

James continued, “See, back where I grew up, I used to do this thing with my mates where we’d go into the forest on St Paddy’s night, and look for leprechaun gold. Never found any, but it was always a good laugh. We’ve got a huge-ass Kiwi forest on our doorstep tonight, so- shall we?”

 

“YEAHHHHH!!!” And just like that, the entire company spilled out of the tightly enclosed trailer into the open air. It was still light, and the warm red, gold and brown hues had transformed the woods into an autumn paradise. The first of the golden leaves had already begun to fall, littering the ground and forming a soft carpet, but the evening was still warm and sunlit.

 

“All right, lads! Meet back here when you find the gold, or when you get bored!” bellowed James from the front of the pack. The actors fanned out into the forest in twos and threes, the drunker ones singing at the top of their lungs.

 

Dean began to move towards Aidan, but before he got there, the Irishman had disappeared to only God knows where. Disappointment washed over him like a bucket of icy water, accompanied by no small amount of worry. Perhaps it was just Fili’s overprotective instincts getting the better of him, but he had to bite his lips shut to keep from shouting after the other man to be careful. Aidan had been really drunk, he could easily get lost in the woods, he could trip and fall and hurt himself, he could…

 

 _Oh, get a grip, Dean,_ he told himself harshly. _You’re not his babysitter, or even his real brother. Just colleagues, remember?_

 

He ended up with Richard and Adam. Richard was still calmly sober, which was a stroke of luck on Dean’s part, as Adam was beyond tipsy. He staggered around, grabbing hold of anything and everything for support, and found everything ridiculously funny. “Deano, your hair is gold, like the leaves… haha… It’s cause you’re a Kiwi and they’re Kiwi leaves, get it?”

 

“No. Shut up, you’re drunk.”

 

“Am not drunk, just happy…” His foot caught on a tree branch, and he landed flat on his ass. “Not drunk! Just taking a little rest.”

 

“Would you like one more shot?” asked Richard, winking at Dean.

 

“Ooh, a shot! Yes! Yes! Where?” Adam perked right up, head swivelling in all directions. His face drooped. “I don’t see any shots. You’re mean, Ri-…” Before he could finish his sentence, he passed out on the springy ground. 

 

Richard sighed. Sitting down on a fallen branch nearby, he looked up at Dean and patted the spot next to him. “Guess we’re not finding any treasure tonight, hey?”

 

Dean chuckled, taking the proffered seat. “Shame, I was really looking forward to getting my hands on some gold.”

 

They sat there chatting aimlessly for some time, while Adam snored on the ground. Eventually their surroundings grew dark. It was difficult to make out the stars through the forest canopy, but they judged it must be nighttime.

 

“We’d better be getting back,” said Richard at last. They woke Adam up, none too gently, and headed back through the trees.

 

A scene of pandemonium greeted them as soon as they broke free of the cover of the woods.

 

“THERE THEY ARE!” Dean had never heard Ken shouting so loudly before. The three newcomers were immediately surrounded by worried actors, most of who had sobered up impressively.

 

“Where the hell were you? Where’s Aidan? We were about to send out a search party!”

 

“We were just talking, waiting for sleeping beauty here to get up,” said Richard in bewilderment. “Wait, what do you mean? Is Aidan not back yet?”

 

Something seemed to clutch at Dean’s throat. The others were still talking – “We have to go back in, look for him! Send for help if we still can’t find him”- but their voices had faded into a buzz in the background. Without waiting for anyone else, he turned back and headed into the forest before the anxious crowd even noticed he was gone.

 

He strode into the forest blindly, trusting to instinct to guide him back out. He should have listened to Fili’s voice in his head, he thought bitterly. His fictional character was clearly far more sensible than Dean himself. How was he going to find Aidan now? His “little brother” could have hit his head on a rock, he could have tried to climb a tree and fallen and broken his leg, he could have gotten attacked by a bear… A thousand different scenarios, all of them awful and involving Aidan being hurt in some way or other, flashed before his eyes.

 

_Come on, Aid, you idiot, where are you?_

***

 

Aidan sang loudly and drunkenly as he blundered through the trees. “Oh Danny boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling; from glen to glen, and down the mountainside-Oof!” He put out a hand hurriedly, just in time to stop himself landing face first in the dirt.

 

Well, that was lucky. He glanced around and blinked. Wait, where the hell was he? He strained his eyes, searching in vain for a human form nearby, but realised for the first time that he was alone. Somehow, at some point, he had gotten separated from the others. The woods were dark around him now, the blaze of autumn colours swallowed up by the night. With a pang of foreboding, he realised that he didn’t know his way back.

 

Scrambling unsteadily to his feet, he shouted out into the night. “Hey guys! Where are you lot? I’m lost!”

 

There was no answer but the stillness of the woods. In the darkness, the trees didn’t seem nearly as friendly and welcoming as they had earlier. The leaves’ rustling carried an ominous warning, and he was certain he could hear animals moving through the underbrush. He hoped very much that they were just harmless wild deer and possums. At least there were no snakes and venomous insects in New Zealand, he remembered. Dean had told him that. Dean… Goddammit, he wanted Dean.

 

Aidan sat back down, hugging his knees to his chest. The night breeze was picking up. His beer jacket had worn off, and he was beginning to feel the chill. He wished he had thought to bring a coat. It was probably the alcohol making him emotional, but he felt very much like crying. Why hadn’t he stuck with the others, instead of wandering off on his own? He was such a bloody idiot.

 

He wondered how long it would take for the others to realise he was gone. A sudden thought struck him, and icy fear gripped his heart. What if they didn’t realise? What if he was stuck out here overnight and through the next day, without food and water, until filming began again and someone missed him?

 

“Don’t be ridiculous, Turner,” he said aloud, firmly. “Of course they’ll notice.” Even if they didn’t tonight, Dean would probably wonder when he didn’t drop in to his the next day. They usually spent their days off together, just chilling, or occasionally heading to the nearest town just for the heck of it. He had to count on that. Unless, of course, Dean thought that the reason for his no-show was because he was hungover, which would have been a fair assumption.

 

In a burst of frustration, he got to his feet, pointedly ignoring the rules his mother had taught him about staying put when he was lost. It wasn’t like they’d be able to hear him if he was just sitting around in silence, right? Picking a direction at random, he was off crashing through the undergrowth, occasionally shouting his friends’ names.

 

“Oi! Stop that racket!”

 

He very nearly started out of his skin. Where on earth had that voice come from? He hadn’t heard or seen a single person.

 

“Down here, you big lug!”

 

His first thought was that he must be hallucinating. There on the ground next to him was – a creature. No more than two feet high but with an unmistakeably humanoid form, bearded, wearing a top hat and dark shoes that gleamed in the dim light. It was too dark to make out the colour of his clothes, but Aidan suspected that if he could see them, they would be green. He ought to know, he’d seen tons of them every St Patrick’s Day and Halloween.

 

A leprechaun. A mythical Irish fairy-creature. _Mythical_ being the operative word.

 

What the fuck?

 

“Oh, I am definitely drunk,” he muttered.

 

“That you are,” agreed the little man, unperturbed. “Mick, at your service. And I’d appreciate if you keep it down. Your weeping n’ wailing’s disturbing the peace and quiet. And if you know what’s good for you, you’ll not be disturbing her highness on this day.”

 

“What, you mean St Patrick’s Day? Who’s her highness?”

 

“Shhh!” cried Mick. “Don’t be saying that name!” But it was too late.

 

A lovely voice, like the music of running water and the tinkling of wind chimes, came floating to them. “Mick? Who is that?”

 

“You’ll have to come with me now,” said Mick resignedly. “And if you know what’s good for you, you’ll best not be mentioning you-know-who.”

 

Still in a daze, Aidan allowed himself to be led into a clearing. Here, the trees parted overhead, allowing slits of moonlight through the canopy. One of them came to rest on a tall woman, standing under a tree. She turned to meet them with a gracious smile, and Aidan choked on his own spit.

 

At first glance, he could have sworn that she was Cate in the part of the Lady Galadriel, straight out of the Hobbit. Her hair was a mane of living gold, her face fair beyond description, and her eyes a piercing blue. But this woman was even more beautiful, even more queenly, and the look in her eyes was impossibly knowing and wise, beyond the power of any actress or trick of the camera to bring about. Unable to help himself, he fell to his knees before her.

 

“My lady Eriu,” announced Mick, unexpectedly formal. “Queen of the Tuatha Dé Danann, and matron goddess of Ireland.”

 

She inclined her head. “And who may this be?”

 

Aidan’s mind was in overload. He recognized the name Eriu, of course, but the Tuatha Dé Danann- he’d heard of the old legends in school, but he couldn’t for the life of him remember what they were about. If this was a dream, his unconscious brain must be far cleverer than him. Giving up, he decided to just go with the flow. He tried to channel Kili, speaking in the formal tongue of the olden times.

 

“I am called Aidan Turner, my lady. Pray may I ask, what brings the mother of all Ireland to a place such as this?” he asked.

 

Eriu’s face lit up, becoming even more exquisite, though Aidan hadn’t thought that was possible. “Oh, but you are one of my children, I hear it in your voice! Who would have thought it?” She paused, and grimaced. “As to what calls me here, it is St Patrick’s Day.”

 

Aidan was confused. “I- uh, I beg your pardon, my lady, but- that is a celebration of Ireland, is that not a good thing? I do not understand.”

 

The goddess’s face darkened. All at once she appeared as terrible as a winter storm, and Aidan instinctively took a few steps back. Mick muttered, “Uh-oh, now you’ve done it!”

 

“A celebration of Ireland indeed,” said Eriu. Her words were like chips of ice. “And yet they have named it after St Patrick, a devout and good man, but one who was not even Irish to begin with. Do you see?”

 

Aidan saw, quickly, as she snarled, “They should have named it after me!”

 

“Of-of course,” he hurriedly agreed, forgetting Kili’s suave speeches in the wild desire to save his own neck. “Sure.”

 

She smiled, and it was like a ray of sunshine on the daffodils. “You are a sensible child, Aidan. I am glad to have met you. But now, I think, it is time for you to return and find your own treasure.”

 

“My treasure?” he asked, bewildered.

 

“Aye, lad,” said Mick, grinning. “Since you were kind enough not to kidnap me and demand my pot of gold, I’ll drop you a hint. He’s wandering somewhere in the forest at this very moment, calling your name.”

 

The goddess leant over, touched a hand lightly to his forehead. “Sleep, Aidan Turner. When you wake, it will be as though we have never met. But remember this: wait by the stream where you waken. We will send him to you.”

 

His eyes were getting heavier already, but as he drifted off, he heard her whisper, “My gift to you, child.”

 

 

 

***

Dean was close to giving up in despair. He’d been walking for hours, shouting Aidan’s name until he was hoarse, with no response. Where was the man? He’d never find him at this rate.

 

Finally, he reached the banks of a small stream and decided to take a break. Squatting down beside the water, he was splashing his face when movement in the corner of his eye caught his attention. He looked up, only to see Aidan sitting on the opposite bank, shifting every so often, whole and unhurt. The tightness in his chest abruptly disappeared, and relief bubbled from the pits of his stomach. He crossed the shallow stream in a few strides, soaking his shoes in the process but not caring, intent only on his destination.

 

He fell on Aidan like a ton of bricks. “Where have you been, you little fucker? Do you know how worried we all were? Everyone’s out looking for you!”

 

At the sound of his voice, Aidan turned to him, glassy-eyed but smiling. Pulling a stunned Dean towards him, he stroked the other’s short blond hair. “My treasure,” he whispered seductively. “Mine. All mine. More precious than any pot of gold.”

 

Dean groaned. “Dude, are you still drunk?” Despite the treacherous cheering at the back of his mind, he struggled out of Aidan’s embrace. “How much did you have to drink, anyway?”

 

Aidan didn’t answer. Dean tried to feel pissed off, he really did, but well- it was hard to be angry with Aidan when he was acting like that, beaming up at Dean as though he was the most amazing thing in the world.

 

“All right, get up, you sodding lump,” he grumbled. “We’re going back, before the others call out a rescue team for us.”

 

He yanked Aidan to his feet, but the Irishman simply fell against him, his arms around Dean’s neck. “My treasure,” he said yet again.

 

Dean was starting to get seriously annoyed. “Quit calling me that! First of all, I found you; you didn’t find me. So technically speaking, that makes you my treasure, not the other way round.”

 

Aidan turned to him with impossibly huge, luminous eyes, and a brilliant smile. “Am I really?”

 

Dean backtracked quickly out of the hole he’d dug himself into. “That’s not what I meant! I was just trying to make the point that-“

 

Aidan’s face fell. He turned away, biting his lip, looking like a beaten puppy.

 

Dean caved. “Oh all right, all right, you’re my treasure too, okay?”

 

The radiant expression on the other’s face was all the reward he needed. All of a sudden, Dean found himself shoved right up against a tree, Aidan’s hot breath on his neck, possessive hisses in his ear, as Aidan proceeded to show him exactly how serious he was about making Dean his and his only.

 

Half an hour later, they lay together under the tree, both breathless. Dean wrapped his arms around Aidan, unwilling to let him go. There was no trace of drunkenness in Aidan’s demeanour now, he noted suspiciously. Instead, the man smiled at Dean like he had just won the lottery. Or found treasure, in his own words. “Do you know how long I’ve been waiting to do that?” he asked, voice husky.

 

“Not nearly as long as I have, I’m betting,” answered Dean.

 

Aidan snorts. “Unlikely. I wanted to do that from the first moment I set eyes on you as Fili.”

 

“Fine, you win. Why didn’t you ever tell me before?”

 

Aidan was thoughtful, quiet. “I don’t know. We’re working together, we get along great… I guess I was just afraid of screwing things up.”

 

“Same for me,” said Dean, nodding. “What made you change your mind then?” He hesitated. “Were you pretending to be drunk, before?”

 

“No!” said Aidan indignantly. “No, I swear I wasn’t. I just felt- well, all I know is, as soon as you said I was your treasure too, everything suddenly became clear. It was like I was drunk before but then I wasn’t. Like magic. I know it sounds stupid, all right?”

 

He was cut off by Dean kissing him softly. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

 

“S’okay,” mumbled Aidan. “Ignore me, I’m just being a moody fucker.”

 

“No you’re not, that was me being a prick. And I’m sorry about this afternoon as well. I didn’t realise how much all this meant to you.”

 

Aidan shrugged. “I’m not usually this passionate about it, to be honest. I guess I just miss my family; we always have a huge do every St Patrick’s.”

 

“Now I feel even worse. You’re homesick and I was making fun of you.”

 

Aidan snuggled up to him. “You can make it up to me.”

 

“How?”

 

He knew he was in for it the moment he saw Aidan’s mischievous grin.

 

“Well, I did hear you had a talent for the ceilidh…”

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sure I'm entirely happy with this, the story's not really coming alive for me :( RPF is a bit of a departure for me as I can't write sex scenes, and I've no idea if my characters seem stiff or unnatural! But I decided to give it a try anyway :) please let me know what you think! 
> 
> Little bonus for you guys, a ceili (or ceilidh) dance video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rDuGBCftkIE  
> Try to imagine Dean doing that! :)


End file.
